Little Drummer Boy
I would never forget what happened that day. It frightened me greatly. I’ve been losing sleep, going unnaturally insane from the thought. I stood in front of the yellow house. It was vacant; the paint was chipping off, part of the roof appeared to have fallen in. It was around 11 at night, in a rural area, covered in trees and shrubs, general greenery. That being said, it was dark, hardly anything was visible. I remember holding a flashlight, and walking up to the porch of the house. My face had been frozen into a solid stare of apathy as I took step by step to the door. I placed my hand on the knob. It was one of those crystal-looking knobs, you know, the ones that are actually made out of plastic, but are shaped to look a lot like a diamond. I opened the door, slowly at first, but then I lightly shoved forward, allowing the door to open itself freely. A soft creak could be heard as the rusted hinges moved from their positions, as though they were lazily awakening from a long sleep since the last person to enter opened the door. Furniture dotted the house’s rooms, as I could see from the entrance hall. Pictures hung along the wall, damaged from years of ordinary wear and tear; the walls themselves, faring not much better, suffered from disrepair. The carpet itself was moldy; as I stepped on it, water flooded up around my shoe. Nonetheless, I stepped further inside. A little water was nothing of concern; I was more concerned with the ceiling falling on me. The house honestly needed to be condemned. My natural instincts had me hit the light switch. A light bulb, surprisingly, flickered on, weakly lighting the house’s deformed shape. Perhaps the place still had some life left after all. Stepping into the living room of the house was what started the events in motion. An unnatural sound began emanating from somewhere in the disheveled building. Tap. Tap. Tap. It started as a mere tapping as I looked at the various decorations of the house’s living area. There were no electronics, just simple furniture: tables, chairs, and a couch adorned with a rotted white sheet over the top of it. The furniture was suffering the same as the house. Mold covered many of the chairs; they were table chairs, old enough that screws from the bottom of the wood covers poked through the cushions, just small tips sticking out just enough to glint a contraire color to the cushion’s dark green. I advanced into the dining room. Taptap. Taptap. Taptap. The tapping was becoming faster. The dining room contained the same kinds of chairs; surrounding a down-fallen table with a broken leg. The kitchen was conjoint with it; I looked in. There was an old wood stove. The sink was leaking, but the faucet itself had been broken off. My overall impression of the house so far, was some form of mix of the ages. It had old inventions, and new fads. Ironic, considering no one had lived here in years. I began traversing up the stairs, nearly finding myself blocked by the downed roof. I crawled over it slowly. Taptaptap. Taptaptap. Taptaptap. Faster the tap increased. I found a door at the end of the hallway. Other doors, were simply empty bedrooms, even more deformed than the house below. Many, I mistrusted to step into. The door was the same as the front door leading into the house. I put my hand on the knob, and opened it slowly, flicking another light switch. TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP. Five consistent taps. Fast, and loud. I stepped in, to find myself staring at the sight I would never forget. Sitting cross legged in the middle of the floor was a pale child, who appeared to have starved. He sat there, in the middle of the floor. I had found the source of the tapping; he had a drum tucked in between his legs. But what shocked me most was what he was drumming with. In his hands, he clutched two bones, the ones from the upper arm. Humeri. He tapped on them, seemingly paying no attention to me. TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP. Another five taps as I took a step closer. TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP. Another step. Another five taps. TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP. Repeat. TAP TAP TAP TAP. He stopped at four as I got directly in front of him, and stared up at me. It wasn’t the boy that frightened me. It was his eyes. Those eyes; or lack thereof, rather. I stared into them as something to run. But I didn’t. I didn’t know why at the time, but I kept the stare. His eyes were nothing but hollowed holes in his head. I could see his brain matter, dripping gel and decomposed rot falling into his mouth and skull. It had apparently filled his mouth on more than one occasion; a mix of red, yellow, and transparent matter dripped from his chin. He pointed at me, the bone still clutched in his hand. “Get… out…” A numbing fear erupted through me, almost as though on cue. The boy started tapping on his drum as I felt something getting closer and closer to me. I turned around and took off, sprinting towards the fallen roof. Taptaptaptattaptattaptattaptattaptattaptattap The taps went faster and faster. It was catching up. To this day I don’t know what it was; but I wasn’t going to turn around to find out. I quickly clambered over the fallen section of the roofing, nearly falling down the stairs. But I didn’t stop. Tattaptattaptattaptattaptattaptattaptattaptattaptattaptattap. The taps kept going. I went through the living room, running with all of my might back into the entrance hall. I quickly slammed open the door and sprinted out, into the darkness, whatever creature it was having finally stopped pursuing me. I’ve never recovered since. Because I can only think of it. I can only think of that boy and his drum. The creature that pursued me as he tapped on it with the bones. I can only think of the sound of that little toy drum he had between his legs. Tap. Tap. Tap. Category:Creepypasta